


To Make Sinking Stones Fly

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, and im so sorry for that, and it probably makes no sense, and the ending sucks, but oh well, idk man, ill probably be editing it when it's not 5:37 AM, sigh, this is really self-indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-20
Updated: 2013-04-20
Packaged: 2017-12-09 00:10:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/767704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>louis falls in love with the shins around the same time he falls in love with harry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Make Sinking Stones Fly

**Author's Note:**

> I was going to make this angst about louis and harry falling out of love based on the song, “Dory Previn” by Camera Obscura, but then this happened. sigh. 
> 
> to keep up with my never-ending list of inevitable mistakes: tommo-cupcake.tumblr.com
> 
> also, this probably won't make any sense. idek, i wrote it so it makes sense to me, i guess. louis turned out to have anxiety issues and i didnt mean for that to happen, but it is what it is. i guess you can turn the characters into whatever you want, considering i dont even know who they are.

louis falls in love with the shins around the same time he falls in love with harry.

 _new slang_ is playing through the radio of his dad’s beat up car that he’d be loaned (in theory) and  theres a cigarette held dangerously close to his thigh as he breathes out smoke, _in, out, in, out_ like a mantra. his head fills with the sound as it plays lightly through the air before it hits the cool snow and fades quickly. he likes that the best, though. watching it wither away and melt into pieces as the notes of the singer’s voice seep into the snowfall and die off. maybe that’s creepy.

he turns it up, and thinks, _yeah, maybe._ because he’s never been one to over think. the fire on the end of his cigarette is flaring, and he can feel it ending as he pulls another to his mouth and coughs, wanting so terribly bad to stop this habit. it hasn’t started, of course, as he’s only been smoking for a few days, but the idea scares him and he wants to go back.

he cant. he cant do a lot of things, but that makes the top of the list, and maybe that’s why he feels so desperate when he puts the rolled tobacco against his bottom lip. there’s a girl crossing the street, her dress too short and her hair too curly as she smiles wide and waves sweetly. her lips dip slightly at the corners when he stares blankly in response, and he should feel bad, he really, really should, but the air is too cold and his heating doesn’t work and she didn’t matter, anyway.

now, though, he can feel the snowfall growing heavier and he throws his unfinished cigarette into the grass and whispers to himself, _shit, its cold, isn’t it?_ and he’s probably going crazy, but that doesn’t make a difference at this point.

he’s pulling out of the parking lot as he tries to burn himself from the inside out with the sparking air. he drives a little ways to an old pizza shop about a block from his house, never daring to leave the city because he knows this place well enough to do that. he doesn’t enjoy the whole town, of course (doesn’t even enjoy this shop’s pizza, seeing as it’s always burnt) but it’ll have to do. the glass doors hit him on the way in and he can feel the table near him glaring at his choice words. _yeah, well._ is all he can think of in response, and wow, what’s happened to him in the last few months? the idea fleets quickly as he steps up the counter and orders the usual, and the boy behind the counter seems to be thinking, _what the fuck is the usual,_ but louis will let him sort that one out.

he’s seated playing on his phone (staring at the lock screen) when the pizza is brought over. the boy serving him is that same one who’d been behind the counter, but louis wouldn’t have noticed (or cared) if he hadn’t tapped him on the shoulder.

“im harry.”

“okay.” and hes eating his pizza and the boy waits a few seconds too long before retreating. louis drags a finger along the outline of his cigarette box and he doesn’t want one, but he knows its not an option at this point. _not hooked. not hooked. ill stop. not hooked._

and he cant tell if hes lying or not so he downs his soda to see if he’ll drown.

\---

the sun has set by the time he’s played through all of their albums and he finds himself wasting away minutes until the cd begins and thinks _all that became this_ but that’s ungrateful (and he isn’t sure he cares.) the sky is fading and dripping colors and louis wants to water them down and spread it across his walls, but that’s over thinking things. so he stops.

he pulls himself out of bed, his mother nagging him from across the ocean, and his cereal is set out by the time the song begins and _I really need a new fucking cd player_ and he’d ask zayn, if that wasn’t pushing unset boundaries. so he grabs his bowl of soggy sugar and pushes away the cheap furniture surrounding him as he leaves the house with a pack of cigarettes and a spoon in his pocket, his finger tracing lightly over both. he doesn’t know where hes going, but the album is still playing and maybe he had it turned up a bit too loud, because he can hear it from the end of his hall, and yeah, _im going to be evicted one of these days_ but, then again _excitement, maybe._

hes in his car and hes left his cds in the house and his phone doesn’t play nearly loud enough, so he sits in silence as the junker tries to keep up. hes taking bites of cereal as he goes, but more milk ends up on his shirt than in his mouth, so he gives up and sets the bowl in the passagers seat.

hes humming _it’s only life,_ because _fuck, maybe it is,_ and _that’s the problem,_ and _fuck_ and the park across his street seems the right place to go. maybe it’s ironic, but he doesn’t know what ironic really means, so he stops thinking.

he’s seated and he can feel the lack of earphones in his bones, in his head, in his everything as the birds and kids screaming fill him from the inside out and _no, no, wrong._ he hums to _girl on the wing_ when,

“im harry.”

 _no, no, wrong._ because _so close_ and _stop_ and _I cant do that._ because he cant talk to strangers like this boy obviously can and he wants this to end because its going to anyway.

“no.” and he doesn’t know what he meant by that, but _no._

“you’re a very pretty person, you know.” and the boy says it like a secret, and maybe it is.

 _no, no, wrong._ and its not that this has happened and crashed before, its that _this hasn’t happened_ and _stop_ and _im scared._ and hes overthinking again and that’s never okay, so hes reaching for a box and fumbling and,

“no.” and louis really has no idea what he’s saying.

so the boy smiles a small smile and puts a hand out and _no, no, wrong,_ and hes over thinking this, he knows he is, because it’s a handshake and a compliment and _why can’t I handle this._

so he stands up and leaves and it’s whispers of _september_ as he fades and fuck if he knows what that song means.

\---

and the next time he’s standing in line to buy a bag of chips and maybe a pack of gum if he doesn’t decide against it and,

“im harry”

and

“I know.” and that’s a new best, so louis takes note to write that somewhere because _yeah, well,_ isn’t going to cut it anymore.

“what are you buying?”

and this kid is way too interested in his groceries and _him_ and he’s done and scared in more ways than one, so it’s a chain of four cigarettes on his way out, and its not to feel good, its to fill every part of him he dreads with the smoke that’s filling the pieces he loves and he doesn’t know if that balances things out, but its better than nothing at all.

\---

the next time he’s at that same park with that same stupid song stuck in his head and hes got a pencil and paper with him this time because _that’s what creative people do, that’s what they do, that’s what I do._

But he doesn’t and hes got his earphones so he cleans _it’s just life_ out of his memory with _so says I_ and it’s not really better, but it’s different, and maybe that’s the same thing.

“im harry”

and _no, no, wrong, stop._

“that’s fucking fantastic”

and he looks up to see the boy with a grin plastered to wrinkles that are spread far too thin and eyes that squint too hard for it to be the sun and he _no, no, wrong, stop._

“can I sit with you?”

 _no, no, wrong, stop._ but then again _don’t overthink this_ so he lowers his head and lets the boy interpret that, and it’s a yes, so louis stays quiet as the boy leans over his shoulder to stare at the blank paper.

“what’s it going to be?”

and it’s just that, the fact that this paper has to be something that cuts his tolerance in half as he crinkles the edge and thinks _done._

“nothing.”

and maybe he’s more than relieved when:

“oh.”

so he smiles and _maybe, just maybe_ and he puts the paper on the grass and closes his eyes and _don’t over think_

but then-

“youre very pretty, louis.”

and louis groans, actually groans, at that because _no._ because _not now._ because _so close._ because _I didn’t ruin it this time_ (and maybe he smiles a little at that one.)

“stop that.”

the- harry turns his head a little and _stop that._

“stop what?”

“that.”

harry smiles, the wrinkles deep and set and permanent and its _pressed in a book_ isplaying through his head now, and maybe the meaning applies to him and the title applies to harry, but that’s okay.

but now he’s over thinking and his hand is gripping the fabric of his jeans and

“I need to leave”

and

“don’t. or-“ and a pause, and louis hates pauses because he hates filling them so he stands with a hum of ‘ _the goal is to ignite you then move on. you feel ill at ease.’_ “come to the pizza shop tomorrow.”

so,

“no.” and that’s that with a washed out thought of _no, no, wrong_ as he pulls out rolled paper and harry eyes it, but there’s also, _maybe, maybe,_ chanting for more than one reason. because maybe the cigarette to burn his insides and maybe harry to burn his outsides because no fucking way is going to eat burnt pizza at an old pizza shop.

\---

standing by his principles, he doesn’t go and he’s sitting in his hall and smoking while the neighbors are gone and, yeah, he wants the smoke to stain these walls and stairs and carpets because _remember me, remember me._

and it’s not till the next day that he goes see harry, because home is a waste (and so is the pizza, but _don’t overthink)_

“The usual.”

and today it’s _yes, we’ll be right with you_ passing through harry’s eyes and that’s enough for him to add,

“to go, please.”

and, oh:

“no.” harry responds.

so they pause and stare and the girl pulling dough out of the oven is looking over and _stand up for yourself,_ but,

“okay.” because fuck if he’s ever listened to himself.

so he’s served  mushroom and black olives on his pizza because he knows they burn the meat and harry sits across from him and they keep quiet as louis thinks, ‘ _until this turn in my head I let you stay and you paid no rent’_ and _what song is that from?_ and

“why can’t I have this to go?”

“because you’re pretty.” and harry’s smirking.

and, _gone for good,_ that’s it, and _don’t overthink,_ and _you need a cigarette,_ and _don’t think that, not hooked, not hooked, not hooked._

“oh.”

and harry’s leaning forward and smiling and louis cringes at the sight because _no, no, wrong._

“would you like to go out on a date one day, louis?”

and fuck

“I don’t even know you.” and maybe he laughs while he says it and maybe the boy looks a little hurt, but he doesn’t matter anyways.

“I don’t think you ever will if you don’t go out with me.”

and _I need a smoke, get hooked, get hooked._ and maybe he drops his spoon because his fingers are shaking and maybe harry notices

“I haven’t even had a conversation with you.”

“you don’t need to!”

and this boy is too many shades of too many colors and louis’ colorblind and doesn’t know where he’s going and what parts of him are moving and

“you’re fucked up, kid.” and _shit, shit, too harsh, take it back, take it back_

but the boy laughs and maybe it’s a little relieving and maybe it’s a little cute and maybe he really _really_ needs to leave the building.

“just once.”

so _once, once, no, no, wrong, don’t overthink this, not hooked , you need a cigarette, get hooked_

“tomorrow at the park?”

“perfect.”

and tomorrows a thursday and harry works so who knows how that’ll work out, but

“great.”

and maybe he’s smiling, but he’s definitely got a hand in his left pocket and the cigarettes don’t make him feel clean, but they cloud up all hope, and maybe that’s the same thing.

\---

louis’ late to the park and harry’s early and this won’t ever work, but _calm down, don’t overthink_ and he has ‘ _but look here, until then they’re gonna buy your life’s time’_ running through his head and he-

“hello.”

and harry’s smiling too wide again and his cheeks gather at the edges and his teeth stay spaces and it’s all different types of _no, no, wrong._

“hi, louis.”

and louis sits next to him on the grass and maybe harry shifts closer and louis shifts farther and maybe louis didn’t bring enough to cloud up the hope he’ll have today.

“this is a date, louis.” and harry has turned to face him with crossed legs and a stern face and it’s too much blue and green and red and louis doesn’t remember what colors he can’t see. “just thought I’d clear that up.”

and louis scoffs because _don’t overthink_ might apply to more than just him and “calm down, it’s only once.”

“and I intend on making it count.”

“how so?” and maybe louis’ intrigued but he’s also craving a cigarette and maybe he’s feeling too much at once and maybe he’s not used to that.

“come on then,” and hes disregarding the question, and louis files that under ‘cons’ and stands up, “let’s walk.”

so they both face each other and louis is squinting because harry’s surrounded by a haze, but he didn’t need to because that _smile_ is back and it’s as infuriating as before and _but the stars are leaking out, like spittle from a cloud,_ and does that even fit this situation?

(probably not, but he doesn’t know what song that is because now harry’s lacing their fingers and _no, no, wrong.)_

louis’ doesn’t bother with trying to sort the colors now, because it’s a bit of a waste at this point, so he settles for leaning against a wall on their way to wherever harry is going and he slides down to the floor to pull the box from his pocket and ‘ _loss has conquered you, you’ve won too many fights’_.

“you shouldn’t do that.”

and he pauses and the cigarette isn’t to his lip yet and, “what?” because zayn always said you never defy someone smoking, but here’s harry with his:

“smoking will kill you and I want you to stop.”

and

“you don’t tell me what to do”

but

“I care about you and you shouldn’t be killing yourself like that”

and louis should be infuriated, but the colors are settling and he can breathe, and maybe he doesn’t want to make this hazy, for he sets the rolled paper into the box into his pocket, and maybe _not hooked_ isn’t true and _get hooked_ wont be true and maybe he hasn’t stopped smoking (because he still craves the cigarette, really) but this is one battle, and maybe that’s enough.

it’s a start.

so they stand and harry envelopes louis and its all long limbs and fingers and pressure and _don’t over think_ but at least there isn’t any _no, no, wrong_ murmuring, so there’s another beginning.

they keep walking, fingers locked, and when did _this_ start? why the fuck is he holding this kids hand?

so he tries pulling back, but harry’s eyes read _no, no, wrong_ and a nostalgia of _what the fuck is the usual?_ so louis holds on a little tighter.

harry brings him to the other side of the road, and louis can still see the park so he can run if he’s got to, but then there’s harry taking a deep breath and this is too much, so he turns and he sees blue, and _don’t overthink, stop, stop, stop, smoke, smoke, haze, stop,_ and he doesn’t know why, because nothing is scary. harry isn’t intimidating, but maybe this situation is, so he keeps turning until harry grabs him and-

oh.

harry’s lips cover his own, and finally, finally, finally the thoughts are gone and it’s _harry, harry, harry,_ and that’s nice.

“louis?” so louis stops and “this, I mean,” a breath, "you. you seem tense. stop." _oh, okay, that fixes everything_ "try this with me."

"huh?"

"this. try  _this:_ you and me. lets try it."

 _don't overthink, don't overthink,_ and maybe things are growing clearer.

“okay.”

“what?”

“i mean. im not going to promise anything, but. ill try.”

so there it is again, ‘ _well this is just a simple song, to say what you’ve done’,_ but the lyrics are the only other thing running through his mind, and he knows he’s not overthinking and he knows it’s right and the cigarettes are still burning in his pocket, and who knows if he’s done smoking, but he thinks he’ll be okay. harry smiles, unnervingly bright, but maybe things are always going to be a little unnerving, and.

yeah, he can try.


End file.
